


It’s All So Incredibly Loud

by akuli



Series: i knew you once [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, because we don’t have nearly enough of that, grizzy and friends are in vt now because canon is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28514094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akuli/pseuds/akuli
Summary: (And who is Jack, to refuse his best friend with stars in his eyes.)aka: the erasure of Floor 0, and the brothers Tyler Blevins leaves behind
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: i knew you once [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2070849
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10
Collections: victors' tower (stories from floor 6)





	It’s All So Incredibly Loud

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Horrible Inevitability of Being Alive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24503275) by [SeCrFiDr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeCrFiDr/pseuds/SeCrFiDr). 



> originally I was going to opt out of posting this. I read Havok’s final note on aigo and I was still in place where I didn’t feel like my vt works mattered in the grand scheme of canon.
> 
> and then I saw Quackity in EF’s fic. 
> 
> I promptly exploded, and now we’re here. While this is going to be a strange one in the universe, the reason why I became mentor was for this dynamic and my insatiable desire for more F0 content. 
> 
> So... here’s to three months in the making.

District 2 is etiquette, firm hands on the shoulders of children still learning to be proper. It’s a riding crop placed between the elbows of a rider, learning to post with a straight back despite the irregular movement of a cantar. Posture and manners, a routine of cleaning by hand, as technology is advanced, but there are still ways to go. District 2 is uniforms, dirtied by the end of the day not by the children, but the few natural elements that have not been cleansed by the pollution of the sky, the water, the people. District 2 is many things, some of which only it’s residents can understand, but to outsiders, and the Capitol, it is decades of perfection, a cycle that has not yet been broken.

Tyler is crisp black orchids accented by hibiscus, a high collar and veiled strength in arms folded behind one’s back, knuckles resting against a lukewarm palm. Tyler is effortless rolling back oceans of praise and envious looks, steadying his own hand. Tyler is District 2, through and through.

Here’s the thing about being perfect; it’s a lonely existence. 

When Tyler is six, PewDiePie, or rather, Felix wins. He stands on his toes, and he thinks Felix is smaller than he expected (he doesn’t know why he expected him to be taller. He just did.)

(Tyler meets Felix properly, he’s fifteen and his mouth tastes foul the entire ride back to the Capitol. He looks so tired that Tyler can’t stomach hating him, even in the slightest)

When Tyler is nine, he leans against the railing of his first home, listening to his parents talk quietly for once in his years of being their son. He does not yet know of the hollow goodbyes he will receive from classmates whose sorrys do not reach their eyes.

(When Tyler is twelve, his mother doesn’t look at him as if she’s her son anymore. He could apologize to her, but he doesn’t think she’d believe him.)

Tyler breaks the rules on his own accord. He thinks his mother, in her quiet rebellion, would be proud of him, as he flips the clasps of the window, pushing up the frame and stepping out of his room, into the refreshing cold of the night. The District is quiet, save for the occasional, rhythmic sound of Peacekeepers who patrol the streets, and the machines that work even when the residents of District 2 are not awake. 

(He’s always had an estranged relationship with silence. He will always find the incessant hum of the unsleeping city soothing, and it’s something that brings him closer to Tiffany, of all people, who tells him how of constant rock of the ocean and the tide, alternating in pulling away from the shore, and completely overtaking. Away from the watchful eye of the public, he gives her trust in telling her of his oldest friends, with a smile that's genuine man for once, and she returns the favor, distracting him from the nightmares that frequent all of them, by teaching him to bake her namesake at midnight.)

Perhaps he becomes a bit distracted, because the he can  _ see _ the Peacekeepers now, silhouetted in their pristine, white uniforms, against the darkness,

and he freezes, and the blinding lights get closer-

He’s pulled into someone, his own back pressed against someone’s torso as they tug him backwards, this time using his arm as leverage, further into the darkness of what he thinks is an alley “ What the f-”

“ Shut  _ up _ ,” and for good measure, a hand comes to rest over his mouth as he’s shoved to the ground, and then quickly tugged behind an object that ultimately saves them as the light of the Peacekeeper’s flashlights provide a look at the figure bedside him, who he can only assume has been in a precarious situation like this before, from the way he crouched, perfectly still despite the imbalance of his weight, the only indication of life being the audible breath he releases as darkness overtakes them again.

The boy takes hold of his arm again and drags him to his feet once the noise of the Peacekeeper’s boots fades, the disbelief in his voice clear despite the fact that neither of them can make out distinct features of the other because of the lack of light, “ _ What _ are you doing?” 

“ Uh-“ 

“ You’re gonna get yourself caught,” He sounds more exasperated than angry, and tentatively leads Tyler closer to the street, where he can make out the curve of his jaw, not quite defined enough yet to be his age. He’s guess the kid is a year or two younger than him, and hasn’t outgrown the bravery that comes from being a child, the feeling of invincibility that comes with your parents bandaging your wounds, despite how you will deny it to your friends later, “ first time?”

“ Uh-“ 

(He could lie. He’s worked for the past five years to be the best of his generation, never going down without an effort considered valiant. 

But the way this kid is looking at him doesn’t strike him as malicious. He doesn’t look at Tyler like a threat,and that’s a sad comfort.)

“ Yeah.”

He offers a hand, “ You want some company?”

Tyler accepts.

He introduces himself as Dennis (“Shit name, I know.”) He lives on the North side of District 2, and helps Tyler climb the rooftops using windowsills as footholds. Tyler finds he enjoys someone else being the center of attention, even if Dennis has to stop every few blocks to reassure Tyler,  _ you’re not going to fall, just fuckin’ jump _ .

There’s another boy, sitting on the edge, whose expression becomes slightly alarmed upon catching sight of Tyler. He doesn’t draw a weapon, but he begins to stand, all while not taking his eyes off of Tyler “ Cloak? Who’s this?”

“ New friend,” Dennis has already become preoccupied with a clothesline, picking rummaging through pockets of loose fabric, “ Found ‘im almost getting caught by Peacekeepers.”

“ Dennis.”

“ Mhm.”

“ Do you even know his name?”

“ … fuck,” Dennis turns away from his work to give Tyler what he can only assume is meant to be an apologetic, but there’s an edge to it that never fails to give the impression of his impish nature, “ sorry.”

“ You’re,” The exasperation in his voice is more for effect, as he turns away from his friend without another word, and extends his hand to Tyler “ I’m sorry about him. I’m Jack,” He gestures to Dennis, who’s gone back to rummaging through the pockets of various clothing “ and you’ve already met Dennis.” 

“ Tyler.”

(Two years later, Tyler returns every favor he’s ever been given. He taps his knuckles on Jack’s window the night before the Reaping, and it takes a few tries before he comes to the glass, and lifts the frame, the exhaustion clear in his eyes.

“ Ty,” Jack’s voice is a bit raspy, and Tyler mentally notes to buy him or Dennis a pastry they would otherwise refuse, if he didn’t go ahead and buy it beforehand, seeing as he’s clearly woken him up, “ what the fuck.”

“ C’mon,” It’s not quite a request, but it’s not quite a demand. Jack understands him, though, always has, even if he doesn’t take Tyler’s hand when it’s offered, “ Dennis isn’t coming.”

That seems to clear the fog of sleep from his eyes a bit, as he pushes the frame harder, so that it’s stuck in place, before he turns back to Tyler, “ How?”

“ Doesn’t matter.”

“ Y-“

“ I’ll explain tomorrow, okay?” 

(He never does get the chance) “ just come with me.”

(and Tyler is possibility, the road less traveled, a high-risk, high reward kind of friendship) 

“.. please?”

And who is Jack, to refuse his best friend with stars in his eyes.)

  
  


* * *

( _ District 2 is strength. District 2 is Dennis’s hand on his shoulder as Tyler makes his way onto the stage to take his place next to the escort. District 2 is Tyler’s perfect story, told in as few words as he can afford. District 2 is watching your children die and carving their names into the walls built for the people who took them away. There is more expected from District 2 and it’s careers, but they have not forgotten what freedom tastes like.) _

* * *

Tyler’s parents are gone before Jack and Dennis even arrive, which is maybe for the best, seeing as neither him or Dennis are fond of the people who raised Tyler. He can only imagine they feel the same about Tyler’s association with him and Dennis, but he doesn’t, frankly, care about what people like them think of him. That, and there are bigger concerns than how other people think of him at the moment.

When the Peacekeepers shove them into the room, Tyler’s sitting in a padded chair, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands, fingers tightly gripping the clean cut. He looks up when they enter, although he looks no less distressed. He addresses Dennis first, which is a calculated risk with about the response they were both expecting.

“ Hey, kid.”

“ Don’t fuckin’ “hey kid” me right now,” it’s a testament to Dennis’s character the Jack is relieved that Dennis doesn’t punch Tyler upon being in the same room as him again, “ what the  _ fuck _ was that? Are you serious?”

“ Cloak, you have no  _ fucking _ clue what you’re talking about,” none of them are necessarily pacifists, or something akin to it, but Jack can say with certainty he’s  _ never _ seen Tyler get this angry due to stress, “ neither of you are like me. This is what I was  _ born _ to do.”

“ Both of you,” because Jack can  _ see _ Dennis getting ready to say something he’ll regret, “ now is  _ not _ the time.”

(There’s too much and not enough to say.)

“ For what it’s worth,” Tyler sounds  _ exhausted _ , and Jack wants more than anything to make it stop, all of it, “ I’m gonna miss you, kid.”

“ I’m not you’re fuckin’ little brother,” Dennis says, but the way he tucks his chin into the gap between Tyler’s neck and his collarbones says otherwise. Tyler’s hands are resting gently in Dennis’s hair, on his back, and Jack realizes he's trying to keep it together for the first time. That, despite Tyler’s assertion, he didn’t expect to have to do this.

“ Jack.”

“ Don’t,” it’s selfish, but he doesn’t want to say goodbye, not while they still have time, “ not yet.”

His hands are shaking, but he pulls the fabric from where it was hastily stuffed in his pocket, thread hanging off the edges from where he desperately cut the fabric with the knife he tucked against his hip. Tyler, to his credit, stays still when Jack gestures for his wrist, tying the fabric securely around it, “ It’s all I had,” He says, deliberately looking away from Tyler for the first time, “ but it’s  _ something _ .”

Tyler doesn’t say anything, just pulls Jack into a hug that finally makes him break, arms looped around his best friend’s neck, who’s swearing despite the way his voice has gone taunt, “ Fuck you, c’mere.”

Jack presses his face into Tyler’s shoulder, not caring about the wetness that’s beginning to form, and says, with resignation, “ You better win, you asshole.”

  
  


* * *

He’s charismatic in the few events the Capitol introduces, a blueprint for the years to come, in a way that hurts to watch, even though Jack can’t look away (it sickens him, the morbid curiosity the games invokes in the minds of not only in the Capitol’s citizens, but the District citizens as they watch another child who could be a sibling, a friend, die at the hands of entertainment.)

He chooses Ninja when he’s prompted to pick a name for the arena. 

(agile, quick on his feet. protector, protector,  _ protector _ .)

The platforms rise, and it’s the last moment of innocence Tyler Blevins knows

when he’s sure that he’s safe, (safe, that’s funny) he practically throws the spear away, someone both far away and too close at the same time announcing his victory.

he doesn’t stop screaming until the hovercraft lands.

* * *

Tyler comes home with two Peacekeepers and a speech that clearly wasn’t written by him.

(They don’t dress him up, not like how they dress up the later victors, presenting them as a false hope the Districts never truly buy into. There’s bandanna tied around his forehead, and it’s not the one Jack gave him, but it’s close enough to hurt, and Jack can’t look at him without seeing crimson.)

“ What are you doing here?” Dennis snaps, and Jack flicks his wrist, hitting Dennis just enough to get his attention, hoping the message gets across.

“ My parents,” and Jack’s stomach sinks when he realizes that Tyler must’ve tried to visit them first. He doesn’t want to think about what they could’ve possibly said to him.

“ Cloak, if you don’t want to talk to him, you don’t have to,” He says it quickly, in the breath after Tyler finishes because Dennis’s anger is palpable, “ you can leave, and not be a dick.”

Dennis looks at Jack like he’s been betrayed, nails digging into the fist he’s unconsciously formed, before raising his voice so that the entire square can hear him, “ You’re a coward,” he snarls, before turning and jogging away. The Peacekeepers don’t make a move to stop him, Jack’s allows his shoulders to relax as Tyler watches his brother disappear. 

“ … so he hasn’t changed.”

“ Did you ever really think he would?” That gets a smile out of both of them, despite the somber atmosphere, “ we both watched,” he says, quiter, but the effect isn’t lessened in the slightest.

“ Oh.”

(Tyler wonders if Jack thinks he’s a monster.)

“ So he’s, uh,” He doesn’t know how to justify Dennis’s behavior, Solstices, he doesn’t want  _ to _ . The games aren't Tyler’s fault, sure but it’s hard not to see him as one of them after what he saw, crowded in a sea of bodies around the screen that hung above the heads of the tallest man, paying no mind to the muffled gasps of the people forced to watch their children die.

“ It’s fine,” It’s a lie, and they both know it, “ nobody tells you how hard it is.”

“ I should probably go find him,” Jack says, and forces his chin up, meeting Tyler’s eyes and he pretends he won’t cry tonight, “ and you should probably leave.”

  
  


* * *

_ “ Congratulations Markiplier, winner of the 17th annual Hunger Games!” _

* * *

“ Jack?” His mother’s voice is muffled by the thick headphones he wears, as well as the laughing in the background of the clip, playing on loop “ are you streaming?”

“ Nope,” He lifts the headphones off, properly pausing the video, and pushes off the ground, using the natural momentum of his chair to face her, “ what’s up?” 

“ Uh,” Her expression is one of nervousness, which is never a good sign, “ Charles Woodrow is here.”

(Jack’s pretty sure his brain blue screens.)

“ I’m sorry,” He sits up in his chair, back fully pressed against the foam as his fingers tighten around the armrests “ what?”

His mother opens her mouth, as if she’s about to repeat her statement, so Jack raises one of his own hands, shaking it to indicate her not to, “ no, I understood, just,” He leans against his palm, rubbing against his temple,“ what in the Solstices is the head peacekeeper of District 2 doing here?”

“ Frankly,” She rests her one hand against the door with a sigh, and her gaze doesn’t quite meet his when she turns her attention back to him, “ I don’t know,” Her eyes are a bit clearer when she begins to speak again, despite the worry that lingers in the depths,“ but he asked for you specifically. I saw Dennis, as well, if that’s any consolation.”

Her attempt to lighten the mood doesn’t work, but he moves to stand anyways, “ It’s not,” As he moves to get past her, he murmurs quietly, in a way that is distinctly not District 2, nor  _ him _ , “ thanks, Mom.”

(There’s an unspoken question in the way she uses her body, for a moment, as a shield, to prevent him from leaving, and an answer in the way Jack presses against her shoulder for a moment, and then forces his way between the small gap between the frame and her. It’s an apology, and gratitude in one, simple motion, for the nights he was returned home with the firm grip of a Peacekeeper’s hand on his neck, for her support in following a path that is the closest he will get to Tyler anymore.)

Jack has only met Charles a handful of times, and he’s grateful for it. That’s not to say that Charles is necessarily someone to be feared despite his career path, it’s just to say that Charles represents every fear Jack was taught was irrational, the monster of the true children of District 2, who have not yet learned that monsters aren’t real in the way the human mind creates, in nightmares and the stories passed down generationally in District 6. Charles Woodrow represents District 2 in the cleanliness of his uniform, despite the punishments he carries out, far and few, but still terrifying, and Jack knows fear is a weapon he, and the Capitol, utilize to keep his district on a comfortable leash. 

“ Mr. Dunlop,” His features are too sharp to be genuine, and Jack doubts that a peacekeeper, no matter how high the rank, or the past that Jack hasn't quite outgrown, would pay any real mind to yet another young troublemaker like himself, or his best friend, whose arms are tucked into himself in a gesture more defiant than Jack would ever dare in front of someone with such power, “ you’ve grown.”

“ I’d hope so,” He attempts to return the faux smile with one of his own, which is made somewhat easier by Dennis’s presence, “ hey, Cloak.”

“ Jack.”

(When Dennis’s voice goes flat, and his eyes don’t reflect in a way that rivals the sun, it’s never a good sign.)

“ Is there something you needed from us?”

(There is no Jack without Dennis. It started when he was too young to understand why he felt he needed to protect Dennis, but nowadays, safety is not as guaranteed. So Jack positions himself between his youngest brother, and the man in front of them, who regards them both with an air of superiority.)

“ I assume you both remember Tyler Blevins?”

(Something inside of Jack splinters whenever someone insinuates that he and Tyler were never truly friends, or not, at the very least, on the level that he is with his floormates now. He always grits his teeth and takes it in stride, because he remembers quite clearly the thrill that came with exploring buildings that were being remodeled, free reign at night for the brave children who never grew out of immortality. He taught Tyler how to fly, and Tyler, in turn, taught him how to protect himself from predators such as these.)

“ What the Solstices do we have to do with Tyler?”

“ He requested to speak to you two.”

(It’s a surprise, to say the least. Jack never believed Tyler stopped caring about him and Dennis for a second, but he knew that he was busy now, and resigned himself to Twitter replies, and catching his streams when he could.) 

“ I’m here to escort you to the. Although Ninja was your friend,” The use of Tyler’s name, chosen for a game he did not think he would win, is simultaneously a relief and a curse, “ we don’t want any scandals happening involving him.”

(Jack, for once, does not attempt to hide his laugh at the statement. It goes to show how little the Capitol knows about their own precious victors.)

Woodrow doesn’t seem pleased at the authenticity, nor does he seem to understand, as he continues in his condescending tone,“ If you don’t want to engage in this opportunity,” He meets Jack’s eyes, and he thinks that Woodrow is descended of the same beasts of the politicians of the Capitol, “ you can say no at any point.”

(There’s a challenge there, in the way that this man is not truly one of them, someone Jack could reasonably watch be sent off to the games and mourn for. He makes no attempt to hide that he is the ferryman, one who would deliver death to one of his own without a second thought. 

Jack has known fear since he first taught Tyler what it was like to be free, if only observed by the moon, and those as reckless as Dennis and himself. District 2 is inherently distance, for the sake of survival. Don’t embrace your child, your friends, or the ones who brought you into this world. They will betray you if the Capitol commands. Be polite, an example to the others, your sisters and brothers who are not as fortunate as you because they must be punished for continuous disobedience. When you fall, get back up immediately, or hide, tend to your wounds out of sight of the enemy until you are strong enough to devise a plan. 

The Capitol takes because it can, but Jack cares more deeply about his friends to worry, in this moment, about the consequences that will surely come from this decision.)

“ Lead the way.”

* * *

The trip to the center of District 2 is made to be longer than it actually is by the silence that stretches between the three. Jack finds no reason for him to engage with Woodrow, who seems to share the same sentiment by how he makes a point to walk in front of them at all times, and Dennis’s body language conveys everything it needs, even to those they pass who do not know the situation. 

(At some point during the process, two nearby Peacekeepers come to walk alongside Jack and Dennis respectively. It never gets easier when they’re around.)

They’re led past the training center, across the tiles of the square and to a building Jack recognizes vaguely, something a mayor would operate from if they had one of those. The woman sitting behind the desk holds the Peacekeeper’s gaze for a moment before turning back to whatever mundane paperwork she was filling out, and the Peacekeeper who’s unofficially been assigned to Jack digs their elbow into his ribs. The final room they’re escorted in is already occupied by a man who’s barely visible beside the desk, mumbling to himself. He looks up, briefly, and upon seeing the Peacekeepers, gets back to his work. 

Dennis claims the seat behind the desk immediately, ignoring the look on the technician's face as he pushes him back so that he can get comfortable. The man looks to Woodrow, who shrugs, and then turns his attention back to the monitor, annoyance clear in the pressure he applies to the keys, demonstrated by the audible noise of the keyboard as he logs in and begins to set up the program.

Jack zones out, a bit, he thinks, because when he blinks back to awareness, the technician seems to have finished, judging by the way he swiftly move out of the vision of the webcam, and the dull ringing that he could’ve sworn has been going on for minutes but judging by Dennis’s sudden alertness, has only been present for a few seconds.

And there was Tyler, hair styled to stick up at a ridiculous angle, that still managed to rival the beauty of the sprawling coast of District 4, and Jack is thirteen again, clinging to his younger brother’s arm and fighting back the words that have grown stagnant in an untouchable place that keeps him  _ safe _ .

Tyler is the first to speak, because of course he is,” … is this thing working? I can see you guys, but-“

“ Nope,” Dennis reaches for the keyboard, and Jack has to slap his hand, gently, but enough to get the message across. He glares at him, for a moment, before turning back to Tyler,“ working just fine, Ty.”

“ Okay,” Tyler responds to Dennis’s attempt at detachment with a grin.

( _ They will not know until later, but nobody had called Tyler by his name for a long time. At least, nobody he cared about. _ )

“ good,” After a moment, his expression changes, and his eyes are curious, the curve of his smile closer to teasing. Jack feels like he’s thirteen again, “ hold on, so you two were just staring at me like a bunch’a creeps for a second there?”

“ Fuck off”

“ Love you too, Cloaks,” The fondness in his tone comes through clearly, and Jack’s throat feels tight, especially when Tyler addresses him by name,“ Jack?”

“ I’m here.” 

Tyler’s expression doesn’t change much, but he knows Jack well enough to know how he talks, and it’s clear in his wording, at the very least, “ You good, dude?”

“ Yeah,” He shifts on his feet, to make it look as if he’s simply uncomfortable with the seating arrangement as a scapegoat as to why he moves slightly out of frame,“ great, actually,” it’s not exactly a lie, but it’s not exactly the truth. It’s Jack’s specialty, and he wills Dennis, whose eyes flit between him and the screen, to be less obvious about Jack’s crisis, “ it’s just a lot to take in.”

“ Tell me about it,” Tyler’s eyes move away from the screen as he shifts in his seat to look over his shoulder for a moment. He then proceeds to lean close to the screen, as if he’s telling them a secret, despite the Peacekeepers who flank him, and Jack is reminded that he is indeed, a performer, “ I’m still not used to these fools, and I’ve had years to,” He leans back, and air quotes, rolling his eyes in a way that is more playful than genuine annoyance,“ “adjust”” He straightens, and clasps his hands together, turning his attention back to the screen, “ That’s enough about me, though. How’ve you two been? Tiffany said you two‘re twitchers now as well?”

Jack makes a pained noise, and the grin on Tyler’s face is smug, and achingly familiar as he leans more into frame, “ Please, for the love of everything,” He meets Tyler’s eyes, and although the quality is near-perfect, it’s enough that they have remained as shockingly blue as his hair, “ do  _ not _ call it that ever again. But, uh, yeah,” Dennis, bless him, for once is being quiet, and letting Jack have his moment, saluting briefly when he’s mentioned, but staying quiet otherwise, “ we both do a lot of Fortnite stuff. Not on the level of Ninja “Fortnite”” Tyler laughs at that, but it’s strained, and Jack makes a mental note to refer to him as his name, from now on,“ but we get by, and we both really like the game, you know?”

“ That’s good,” He taps, albeit irregularly, against the armrest of his chair, “ I’m glad you guys are doing well. I’ll have to talk about the big man first, but maybe we can do a collab sometime.”

(Tyler hopes his memory does not fail him, as he attempts to repeat what Ian taught him. Jack is smart, Jack will know he’s telling them he loves them in the Latin of District 3)

“ That would be nice.”

There’s a loud noise that sounds something like the shattering of a plate, and two distinct voices that arise from it, one female, and one male, and Jack feels a bit sick, because Tyler doesn’t look worried. The expression on his face is one that he recognizes, the one he still uses towards Dennis sometimes, “ Sorry, can you give me a second?” Jack nods out of habit, and Tyler leans back in his chair, and yells, loud, coming through the monitor clearly, but everything feels strangely far away, like he’s watching someone else live his own life, “  _ FELIX _ !  _ Håll käften!”  _

(Tyler’s smile is open, the kind that’s out there for all of Panem to see, but always taken with headphones on, new friends, the victors, beyond the vision of the viewer, the adoring fans who only get to see the  _ real _ Tyler in the still perfection he is known for. Ninja is leaning back in a chair that looks more expensive than Jack’s rent, and he can’t meet Tyler’s eyes when he turns his attention back to his former friends)

“ It’s no problem,” Jack catches a look at himself in the webcam, and he’s surprised at how composed he looks. He  _ feels _ like a fraud, “ I think we should be going anyways.”

“ Oh,” Jack feels awful instantly, for how Tyler’s smile wavers, and then slips into one less genuine, the one he plays up for his audience,“ okay,” He straightens, and Jack makes himself move into the frame, pressed against Dennis’s shoulder despite how unnatural it feels, “ it was nice to see you guys. Keep up the good work. Hopefully we can do this again soon.”

“ Maybe,” He gets the distinct feeling, for all their hope, it will not happen again,“ bye, Tyler.”

“ Bye, Jack.”

(The call ends and the Peacekeepers, who have done their duty, exit swiftly, and without noticing the way that Ninja’s head falls back against the padded headrest of the chair a bit too hard. 

Tyler doesn’t sleep much that night. Fortunately for him, Floor 0 is well acquainted with feeling like a failure)

* * *

Jack’s first Twitchcon is… memorable, to say the least. He’s never quite invited, but he’s also never refused, so he goes, because Rae asks him to, and because he’s been feeling suffocated recently, but Dennis, who doesn’t seem to want to do anything but make content lately, by his own District, who would certainly disapprove of him seeking out help and his behavior in general. So when Rae asks him if he wants to go, he begins to research costs for renting a hotel room for the week.

(The train ride to the Capitol is disappointingly short. He wonders if it’s the only moment of serenity the other creators to the east are allowed, passing the barley-preserved history of forests that have stood since before Panem, before the rebellion, before the Games. He wonders if things would be different if he wasn’t District 2.)

“ Jack!” 

Rae is bouncing on the balls of her feet, waving at him, absurdly calm granted that  _ the _ Pokimane is standing beside her.

“ Rae,” He says as soon as he’s close enough that they can hear him over the incessant noise of fans, excited to meet their favorite creators, accompanied by their Capitol parents,” when you said you were meeting up with a friend, this is not what I expected.”

The looks Poki and Rae direct at him are simultaneous, although Rae’s is decidedly more of shame than Poki’s amusement, “ That came off as so incredibly rude,” The embarrassment that’s beginning to claw its way out from his ribs is not as paralyzing as when he recognized the tower on the ride over, but it gets the job done, as he extends his hand to Pokimane, “ Sorry. I’m Jack.”

She takes it with a smile, and Jack notes the calluses on her thumb,“ I already knew that,” At Jack’s accusatory look in Rae’s direction, she laughs, reassurance that he knows he doesn’t really need in her words, “ Rae’s only said good things, don’t worry.”

“ She’d better have,” He looks over Poki’s shoulder, and finds himself regrettably understanding the thrill his taller friends like Dennis get out of using Jack as their personal armrest, “ I, unlike someone, am not afraid to snitch to Matt.”

Rae’s gaze is on him as soon as she registers what he’s threatened, intense, and with a promise to make his life  _ much _ harder, “ You wouldn’t dare.”

Jack retrieves his phone from his pocket, tauntingly clicking it open, “ You wanna test that theory?”

“ Ladies, ladies,” Poki steps in front of Rae before she can begin to make a move to strangle Jack,” there’s more than enough of me to go around. By the way, do you two have any plans for today I should be worried about?”

“ None that take precedent over this,” Which is true- in the house, Matt was by far his closest friend, and he’d opted out of attending this year, much to the dismay of his fanbase and friends. Brooke and Mason were attending, but for the purposes of actual content creation, so Jack didn’t want to bother them, even if he was pretty sure neither would mind, “ I was under the impression that Rae’s was whatever this is.”

“ Awww,” Poki looks to Rae at the same time as she looks away, refusing to meet Poki’s open affection, “ if you have some free time, do you want to hang out with the cool kids?”

“ I wouldn’t call them cool.”

“ Rae’s salty because the Peacekeepers wouldn’t let her into the tower after party ” Poki’s tone is one of teasing, no real accusation behind her words,“ security precautions, but  _ someone _ thinks they’re above that.”

“ I’ve been friends with you for years!” Rae protests, “ you’d  _ think _ there would be more established trust.”

“ Corporations don’t care about your feelings, Rae,” It’s not said with any bitterness, but there’s always an undertone of dangerous truth to comments like the one she speaks into existence with an air of dismissiveness, “ in seriousness, though, today’s been  _ hella _ stressful, and I think Lily, at the very least, would love to see a new face.”

“ I don’t want to intrude-“

“ You’re my guest,” there is no room for argument in her tone, “ If anything, it’s on me,” He’d like to think the reason her voice goes a bit softer is because of the palpable fear he exudes in response, “ If you’re not comfortable, that’s also fine.”

“ No, it’s not that,” he starts, before Rae, whose stubbornness pays off in times like these, grabs his arm and finishes for him. 

“ - let’s just go before he can talk himself out of it again.”

(The victors of the second floor of the tower are a strange amalgamation, to say the least. Matpat and Shelby are nice enough, both District 4 born, and who have a sibling adjacent bond with the way Mat swats at Shelby’s hand when she attempts to ruffle his hair whilst he’s talking to Jack. The next four victors are introduced together, Lilypichu, whose branding only holds up until Scarra begins to introduce himself. The shouting match that ensues would worry him if the other seated victors didn’t egg her on, much to Poki’s taunting horror. He’s introduced to Yvonne, the twenty-second victor whose hair is a dull color that is very representative of her outward attitude, although her monotone remarks are too personal to dismiss the fondness she holds for her fellow floormates.)

Toast, unlike the others, upholds some form of professionalism, taking the hand Jack offers for its intended purpose, “ You’ve got a good handshake,” He comments, as Jack takes a step back, hoping Toast reads it for what it is; nervousness, being around one of Panem’s most powerful people.

“ I’d hope so,” He responds, “ I’m from District 2.”

The change in Toast’s demeanor is visible, “ Me too,” there’s a certain awkward familiarity in how they both hold themselves, and in the way Toast’s eyes shine when he recounts what little memories of his childhood are still clear in his mind, “ Do you know Mark?”

“ Only by association,” It's hard  _ not _ know the victor’s names, at the very least, and although Jack’s never met him or been particularly involved in his sphere of content creation, he does remember having respect for Mark for being a great entertainer, “ I knew Tyler much better.”

“ Interesting.”

While Jack is attempting to gather his thoughts, drawing upon shared memories of a District Toast, reasonably, hasn’t lived in for two years, the girl with fading, dyed gray hair, Yvonne joins them, moving past him to cup her palm around her mouth, leaning up to say something to Toast, closer than necessary, perhaps, but being in the public eye means you can’t have many secrets. Toast makes a noise of agreement before turning back to him, voice just as flat as before, but words no less genuine, “ It was nice to meet you, Jack.”

“ You too,” He follows behind them, unsure as to what he’s meant to do next, and, to his relief, finds Rae and Poki, the latter of which is perched atop a table that folds, arms draped around the neck of a man who speaks with his entirety, capturing attention with ease. He finds a place next to Rae, who’s sitting on the floor, a choice she actively made despite being offered a chair, and only begins to speak when he’s addressed, “ he’s  _ scary _ .” 

“ You should see him when he  _ plays _ ,” Rae says with a knowing grin, “ kid’s fuckin’ smart.”

“ Oh, by the way,” Poki gestures between him and then man, who looks familiar, recognition only present in his mind when Poki introduces him by name, “ Jack, Austin.”

“ As in  _ the _ AustinShow?”

“ That would be me!” There’s a certain shock in being in the physical presence of this man. Austin’s face has never been a secret, per say, but it’s certainly strange to see the smile he’s been able to hear for so long, “ speaking of which, you don’t have anyone in your life, do you?”

“ I don’t,” He doesn’t know Austin very well, as they have two  _ very _ different types of content, but he does have a rough idea of his branding,“ unfortunately for you, though, I’m not interested.”

“ The  _ slander _ ,” Austin’s gasp is accompanied by an equally dramatic clutch at his chest that results in quick laughter from all parties but him, “ this is a limited-time opportunity, Jack. I won’t offer it to you again for quite some time.”

“ That’s alright with me,” “ I don’t think you need someone like me anyways. You’ve got all the contestants you need living with you.”

The way Poki shifts away from Austin for a second makes him feel guilty, for making the victors who were so kind to him uncomfortable, “ I guess so,” Austin laughs, but the way he leans into Poki’s touch when she begins to loop her arms around his neck again is tired, of upholding a burden none of these people should have to carry for the rest of their life, “ I can’t say that’s the first time someone has turned me down, and I don’t think it’ll be the last, but that kinda hurt, man.”

“ Sorry,” He says it in relation to Austin’s commnet, but the tone of disinterest it’s accompanied by speaks more than he could ever without fear of getting the victors in trouble, “ I’m just not looking for anyone right now. I’m trying to make a name for myself first, if that makes any sense.” 

“ I respect the grind, man,” Austin’s liveliness still doesn’t feel quite real, but his smile is getting there, “ it’s hard to have an instantly successful career, such as yours truly.”

  
(The statement results in an argument in which Poki and Rae come out on top, and Jack doesn’t feel alone for the first time in a long time.)

* * *

_ District 2 has six victors.  _

_ The Capitol will only tell you the legacy of five. _

* * *

“ Jack?” Brooke is hovering in the entrance of his room, “ you busy?”

He looks to his monitor, where he’s left his email open, a file attached of his point of view, and ready to send off to Puffer for one of his upcoming videos,“ ... a bit,” He responds, moving the headphones to rest against his neck, and turning to her properly, “ editing. Do you guys need me for something?”

“ There’s someone here to see you.”

He begins to ask who, but remembers that  _ none _ of his roommates are District 2 born,“... right.”

Brooke leads him to the entrance of their shared home, twisting a strand of her long, blonde hair between her fingers and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her nervous like this, in a way that looks paralyzing, a memory that he’s suppressed for a good reason. The doors to his and Rae’s rooms are the only ones that are closed, although her maniacal laughter comes through quite clearly despite her door being shut firmly. Mason and Matt are in the kitchen, with the latter fussing over what he can only assume will be a late lunch. Mason waves as they pass, and Jack returns the gesture as Brooke moves to open the door fully. As he turns back to her, it becomes clear  _ why _ she was so nervous.

There’s a man in a suit, dyed in the colors of a sunset he’s been greeting in the morning quite often these past few weeks, artistic liberty taken with how the dusk blends effortlessly into the dawn, the handiwork of one of their five sister Districts that encircle the Capital (the Capital, who does not deserve this art that they will discard after only a year, ans declare a new trend, one even more ridiculous than the last) He’s Capital, no doubt, from the way he carries himself, to the Peacekeepers who accompany him, one on each side. When the door opens, he smiles at Brooke in a way that makes Jack’s skin crawl.

“ Good afternoon Mr. Dunlop,” Jack attempts to hide his discomfort from being addressed by his full name before realizing the man will carry on despite it,“ may I have a word?”

“ Of course.” He remains in the frame of the door, and purposefully ignoring the man in favor of gesturing for Brooke, who lingers in the hall despite the fear in the pale blue of her eyes, to leave (she does, after a minute longer, suspicion clear in how she does not return the man’s attempt at a polite farewell)

“ I assume you know who I am?”

“ I can’t say I do,” There’s a certain, smug thrill he’ll always blame on Tyler’s influence over him, when the man’s expression slips into disbelief, if only for a moment, “ I would be happy to be enlightened, though.”

“ Randall Piers,” He offers his hand that Jack doesn’t take. Again, the man prompts him silently, for a full minute, before he once again, realizes he is being blatantly refused. He produces a notebook, the leather of animals Jack’s only ever seen on television and dramatized in books with a lesson, and flips it open in a motion that is clearly practiced, and meant to impress, “ From our records, it would seem you were once close with Tyler Blevins.”

He doesn’t like how the man uses past tense when referring to Tyler. “ Yeah,” Confusion is easy to express, as it’s not wholly dishonest, “ what do I have to do with Tyler?”

“ The victors of Floor 0 were found to be attempting to incite a rebellion against the Capital.”

* * *

He thinks, maybe, this is what an earthquake feels like. 

* * *

“ Mr. Dunlop?”

“ I’m sorry,” By whatever strength that he forced onto himself in Tyler’s absence, he’s remained in the same position, although Piers’s face has contorted into an expression he can only assume is meant to be something akin to concern, “ what is it you needed from me?” 

“ You grew up in District 2, yes?”

“ Yes.”

“ Then this shouldn’t be too hard,” Piers’s smile is more human than Woodrow’s, but he is a politician, and even if he’s just carrying out the orders of the Capitol, he choose, willingly, to be their pawn,“ all I need for you is to be quiet. As a District 2 citizen, I wouldn’t think that would be too hard.”

(Jack has never been a particularly violent person. One wouldn’t know this, from the number of games he plays where he screams at his friends as a result of situational rage, but he is generally docile, preferring to resolve actual conflict between himself and the ones he cares about, with words. He’s never wanted to punch anyone more in his life, after Piers’s request.)

“ Is that understood, Mr. Dunlop?”

“ Yes,” His is thankful, for once, that the Capital, and it’s victims, have lost touch with humanity to the point that they prefer an act, no matter the consequences, “ yes, I understand.”

“ Perfect,” He’s polite enough, but not in the way that the citizens of District 2 are. The Capital’s manners are that of monarchies long gone, who admire the empires long gone, and something carved into the depths of his chest begins to shift,“ it was a pleasure meeting you. I’m told you’re a content creator as well. I haven’t personally watched any of your streams, but I wish you the best in your career.”

“ Thank you.”

(He thinks this might be what dying feels like.)

* * *

When the Peacekeepers leave, Jack heads straight to his room, locking the door despite his roommates attempts at bribery. He doesn’t cry, which he finds to be an even worse fate than the numbness that envelops him, a blanket of mourning and sorrow.  _ No mourners, no funeral _ . It’s ironic, he thinks, how suffocating being alone can be, when you’ve spent your entire life working to be acknowledged, whether in a good, or bad way.

Someone knocks at his door.

“ Yes?”

“ Brooke wanted me to let you know the food's ready,” Matt. It’s nice to hear someone who he recognizes, despite the situation, “ you want me to just bring it here?”

“ please.”

It’s quiet enough to be a whisper, but Jack hasn’t moved from where he originally collapsed against the door,“ Alright bud,” He can hear Nadeshot mutter to someone else, maybe Brooke, before raising his voice,“ if you want to talk about it- we’re here.”

* * *

He’s awoken rather abruptly the next morning to shouting that causes his initial stir towards consciousness, and which is swiftly followed by knocking at his door that reverberates through the upper part of his body. He forces himself up, into a sitting position, his back sore, and that’s when it registers that he never bothered to move to his bed the night before. The plate Nadeshot brought last night has been pushed to one side of the room, and his blankets have been stripped of their place on his bed to form a sort-of nest that bunches around his feet. 

“  _ Jack _ ,” Dennis’s voice is too loud this morning, he can hear Brooke on the other side as well, actively trying to deter him. He throws his blankets back onto the larger comforter, and makes his way back over to the door, “ we need to talk.”

He opens the door. “ What you  _ need _ to do,” He winces, for a moment, at how his voice breaks, “ is stop coming into the house unannounced.”

“ Yeah, whatever,” Dennis wastes no time in pushing past him, leaving him to face a disgruntled Brooke. He thinks she could singlehandedly reduce him to ash, from how intense her gaze is, before she turns it back to him.

“ I despise your friends sometimes,” Jack attempts to convey the appreciation has for her remaining his roommate, especially throughout these last few, particularly hectic years via the strained smile he directs towards her as Dennis moves further into his room, “ 10 gifted next time I’m live, with a heartfelt apology, or I’m not leaving.”

“ Of course,” He’d like to think she leaves because of that (but she returns halfway through with breakfast, however grainy the flour, left at the foot of his door, and indicated by a single knock as Dennis continues on his tirade. She’s trying her best to support him with what little information he’s given, and he will never not be thankful for that, and for all of his friends) With her departure, he turns to Dennis, who’s taken a place on the edge of his bed, without invitation, but given the feral look in his eyes and the exhaustion that weighs heavy on Jack’s shoulders, he doesn’t have the energy to tell him to move, “ What’s up, Dennis.”

“ What’s up?” Dennis’s anger is not unfamiliar, but it’s never been overwhelming, made him feel small despite the difference in height between them not being drastic,“ what’s up is that yesterday there were Peacekeepers outside of my house asking about Tyler,” He’s pacing back and forth in front of Jack, who hopes it’s not obvious that he’s slowly backing the chair into his desk “ you can’t tell me that didn’t happen to you. So,” Dennis sits back down, but the way he’s tapping against his thigh is irrational, bordering on violent, “ we need to talk.”

“ …. I don’t know what you want from me, Cloak,” Jack means it; he, for the first time, does not have answers to Dennis’s questions- Solstices, he doesn’t even have answers to his  _ own _ ,“ I can guarantee I know just as much as you do.”

“ I mean,” He runs a hand through his hair,“ what the hell are we supposed to do, Jack? He was our friend.”

“ I know,” 

(There’s a specific beauty in cities, industrialization, that the country will never be able to match. Dancing in the middle of the street at midnight, high on sleep deprivation and the dim lights of lamps that dangle far above the reach of one’s fingers. Nature, and how it is loved,  _ cherished _ , for the angel’s cries for their greatest creation, one they cannot even protect anymore brings much-needed change, however temporary, and the moon and stars, barely visible as a result of the damage the sky has endured through centuries, a glimpse at anything but a plane is one of the greatest thrills.

Dennis was Jack’s first friend, but Tyler taught Jack to love fiercely, because they were,  _ are _ , mortal, and living is nothing if you aren’t taking advantage of every moment of joy one is offered.)

“ I know.”

“ Jack,” the look in Dennis’s eyes is that he’s seen only in the eyes of names he stopped trying to memorize years ago. It’s the desperate,  _ stupid _ , confidence of someone who has nothing to lose, and he braces himself for a threat he does not yet know the details of, “ we need to figure out what we’re going to do.”

“ We’re not going to do anything.”

(He very rarely denies his friends, especially Dennis, but he will not let years of ensuring Dennis  _ had _ a childhood go to waste now, no matter how much he wants to agree with him.)

“ Are you fucking serious?” Jack forces himself to meet Dennis’s gaze, and sure enough, his entire body is trembling, in some way, with the childish anger of not getting one’s way,“  _ this _ ? This is where you draw the line?”

“ It’s my job to protect you,” Dennis opens his mouth, as if to rebuke Jack’s statement, but he continues before he can interrupt, “ That’s been my job since I can remember knowing you. So,” Jack meets Dennis’s eyes, and he prays that if Dennis was ever his friend, that he will understand what Jack’s  _ trying _ to say, “ I have to be the one to remind you exactly what they can do to us if they catch us stepping out of line.”

With that, he finds his way over to his chair, albeit shakily, and sinks into it, with no grace. Dennis watches him the entire time, but doesn’t speak, even as the silence between them stretches on for minutes as Jack collects his thoughts, “ I don’t like it any more than you do, but we are even more forgettable than Tyler,” He looks to Dennis, and wants now, more than ever, to hold the only brother he’s been able to keep safe and lie through his teeth that everything is going to be okay,“ do you want to be completely forgotten? Do you?”

“ No.”

“ Then we do what they ask of us.”

Dennis has always been a force of nature. 

_ (Never an earthquake. He can’t think about earthquakes without thinking about Tyler _ .)

A disaster born into what seems to be the wrong place and wrong time given that he can’t stand silence, fills the void with screaming laughter and the echoes of anger he was never allowed to have. Dennis never grew out of the mentality that he was untouchable, despite the enemies he’s made, and Jack knows it’s, in some way, his fault for encouraging his mindset. 

“ You need to promise me right now that you’re going to do your best to comply with what they ask of you. Of us.”

“ I-“

“ If not for me, do it for your family,” It’s a bit unfair, and the air of stubbornness Dennis previously held dissipates almost instantly, because Jack has always been his protector, but he cannot extend that luxury to Dennis’s family by blood. Not while he puts the only people Jack has left in jeopardy,” because they will find the people you love, and they will hurt them to hurt you.”

“ … okay.”

“ You promise?”

“ I promise.”

“ Good,” He’s exhausted and  _ cold _ , and he wants Dennis to leave and stay simultaneously (he feels so very alone these days, despite the slow beat of District 2’s heart that pulses beneath his feet),“ apologize to Brooke on your way out, and I’ll see you soon,” and Dennis has already seen himself out, closed the door behind him before he can hear Jack quietly say “ promise.”

(He actually ends up doing so, much to Jack’s surprise, and the smile that edges on sadistic as Brooke recounts how Dennis approached her with his metaphorical tail between his legs. Jack wishes he could be proud. 

He wishes he could feel anything, frankly.)

* * *

_ “ Congratulations iAmWildcat, winner of the 30th annual Hunger Games!” _

* * *

(There’s Jawsh, the cycle of history living in him, as his viewer count drops into the abyss despite Alex’s best efforts. He is  _ terrified _ . He doesn’t want to lose his friends) 

(Preston, who’s cartoonish by nature, doomed to watch his menteé fade out of the public eye of Panem from afar. Maybe when he’s allowed to visit Floor 5 for Josh’s birthday, he drags out their first embrace as if they haven’t seen each other for years, but he thinks Josh holds him just as closely.) 

(Fitz, whose audience occasionally causes an uproar on social media, begging him to return to making content.  _ We miss you, _ they say.  _ I miss myself, _ he answers.)

(Toast, who is praised for his genius. He never tells Mark, but he feels cursed sometimes. What’s the point of knowledge if he cannot use it for good?)

(And there’s Mark, effortless in his appeal to the Capital, a fanbase that overlaps with two of his closest friends. He doesn’t regret meeting any of them, but he indulges himself, sometimes, in remembering all that he can about his mentor. 

He does not know that Tyler has not seen the stars in decades)

* * *

  
  


_ The Capitol has always believed they erased Floor 0. _

_ The Districts remember their names. _

* * *

He doesn’t even plan on going to Twitchcon that year, until he’s idly sitting in a call with Grizzy one night after a lobby, and, as per usual, he’s bickering with his roommate. It’s free entertainment, the benefits even more so from an outsider's perspective, as Puffer all but kicks down the door to Grizzy’s room, wielding a  _ lightsaber  _ that he ignites for dramatic effect as soon as the camera focuses, and the way Grizzy screams alone sends him, at the very least, into a laughing fit that turns more wheezy by the end.

“ Oh, Jack, before you go,” Grizzy’s locked his door, much to the disappointment of his roommate, who complained about the inconvenience on his content before exchanging a goodbye with Jack, and promptly leaving the call to attend to other, more pressing matters, “ are you going to Twitchcon this year?”

“ Honestly,” Jack’s attention is not fully devoted to Grizzy when he voices the question, which makes the resulting, momentary guilt a bit easier to endure,“ I wasn’t planning on it. I know Rae’s going, though, to meet up with some friends, so I could maybe split the cost for a room with her.”

( _ Do you want me to come,  _ goes without saying.)

“ You should definitely come,” Grizzy continued, seemingly without noticing the more serious undertones of Jack’s response “ I can introduce you to Pezzy and the others properly! I’ve also got someone I think you should meet.”

That piques his interest. “ Oh?”

“ I’ve been wanting to introduce you two for a while, but your schedule is a  _ nightmare _ .”

“ What can I say,” He laughs, and lifts the fabric resting on his chest for a moment, the stitched crimson lettering recognizable despite how his camera focuses a bit too late, “ I’m a busy man.”

“ I can tell,” Grizzy’s indignant muttering is cut short by himself as his stills, lifting one side of his headphones off of his ear, camera focusing, enhancing his features clearly, and Jack, makes the ultimately correct assumption that he’s listening to something not quite loud enough for the mic to pick up,“ … I think Puffer’s getting into the alcohol without me, fucking,” The curses he directs toward Puffer, who cannot hear them, but who Jack is sure will receive a similar message soon enough, merge to the point that they become illegible, “ I’ll, uh, message you details later?”

“ Sounds good to me,”and then, because he can’t help himself, “ don’t hurt him too bad. He  _ actually _ streams regularly, with a facecam.”

“ We’ll see,” It’s an empty threat, because their friendship is well-documented, and Jack knows, from the glimpses of the side they cut out of videos that he’s had the privilege of experiencing, Grizzy loves his roommate, regardless of the way Puffer takes every chance he can to be a nuisance, “ sleep well brother.”

“ ‘night, Grizzy.”

* * *

The one ideal the Capital is built upon doesn’t attempt to hide is their collective flair for the dramatic. They have an eye for art of all forms, whether that be in the architecture of the mansion the President resides in, alongside the buildings of equal, government importance, inspiration taken from the royalty overseas and a long-dead empire that prevails, despite its rather underwhelming fall. The Capital has become interchangeable with fashion over the decades, when the citizens became bored of their comfortable lives and needed an inoffensive distraction. The events of the victors, streamed from cameras at every angle, that somehow never overlap are representative of this, with the emphasis the stylists put on the victor’s brands, how the decora is dependent on the year’s theme, the delicacies that look too perfect, like they’d make you sick if you ever ate them. The Capital, for all it turns a blind eye to, puts on a good show.

Twitchcon is no exception, from the numbers of applicants who apply for the chance to attend surpassing the previous years without fail. Similarly, the list of sponsors, Capital citizens whose children grow up watching the victors and usually make up the stan part of a given fanbase, only grows longer as the years go by. Creators are invited at the Capital’s discretion, and those not invited have to apply, the same as the other District citizens, although Jack assumes their applications take more priority. 

(He ends up buying his own room at a popular hotel a few blocks from the convention center itself. Sometimes, he finds the emptiness to be cathartic, in a way he thinks a proper therapist would find distressing.)

“ Jack!”

He looks up from his phone to see Grizzy approaching, followed by who he can only assume is of the many people he’s supposedly going to be introduced to. Jack is still trying to figure out what he’s meant to do now, after Piers’s visit, but he tries his best, despite the hollow feeling that has only expanded as the months go by, to return Grizzy’s childlike excitement as he greets him properly. 

“ So,” Jack pockets his phone, extending a hand to Grizzy’s friend, “ you got the whole gang this year, huh?”

(His timeline for at least a week after Grizzy announces that not only him and Puffer are attending, but three of their friends who live in the United Kingdom, is a collective effort of each individual’s fanbases uniting, and screaming from the metaphorical rooftops at how their favorite creators are  _ finally _ meeting up in real life. )

“ Yeah!” Grizzy nudges the man beside him,“ It was a  _ pain  _ trying to convince this one.”

“ Fuck you, first of all,” His accent reminds Jack of one of the victors who’s content is primarily minecraft. Jack can’t remember the name off the top of his head, but Grizzy’s friend’s accent is harder, more distinct, as he continues “ it’s nice to meet you, lad. Grizzy wouldn’t shut the fuck up about you after he played your lobby for  _ weeks _ .”

“ Aww, is that true?” 

“ I fuckin’ hate both of you,” Grizzy looks between them with annoyance that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, before turning his attention fully to Jack, “ it’s good to see you, though. Still going strong, huh old man?”

That does, admittedly, catch him off guard, “ … what did you just call me?”

“ Old.”

“ Puffer’s literally-“

“ Oh, thank you for reminding me,” Grizzy turns his attention to his phone, which presents the opportunity for Simple and Jack to ease the tension, in theory, but Jack, frankly, can’t be bothered, so they stand in awkward silence until Grizzy locates his roommate, who’s, coincidentally, nearby, just ignoring them. Grizzy is shameless in the way he uses his hands to form a cup around his mouth, and yells, “ PUFFER! _ ” _

Puffer’s is standing only a few yards away, and what seems like every minute someone approaches him, bearing various forms of equipment that indicate their status as creators, cameras slung around necks by the velcro of the straps, phones propped up on devices that reduce the risk posed by Puffer himself, who attempts, at the very least, to pull every individual into an embrace of sorts, whether that be a one-armed hug, or a touch on the back. His response to Grizzy is a middle finger, held as far as he can reach upwards without too much effort, back remaining turned despite the noise of protest his roommate emits. Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for the group to catch on and make their way over, one taking on the weight of keeping Simple occupied by throwing himself into the latter’s arms, quickly followed by three others who split off from the group, crowding him, although he doesn’t seem to mind.

“ Every day, I regret agreeing to be your roommate,” Puffer deadpans, before turning his attention to Jack, “ Jack, dude, I’m  _ so _ fuckin’ glad you made it.”

“ and whose idea was that?”

Puffer refuses to meet Grizzy’s gaze, although his jaw tightens visibly, and neither of them say anything for a few seconds,“ … anyways,” He looks over Jack’s shoulder with annoying ease in the direction of where the group of what he can only hope were their friends headed, “ I know you’ve met Pezzy, Droid, and Ash. You wanna meet the rest of these clowns?”

“ I don’t really think I have a choice.”

“ You really don’t,” and with that, Puffer guides him over to where a few of the members of the clump have begun to set up an unofficial spot, one or two heading into the building crowd of the convention itself.

He knows most of the faces Puffer introduces him. Droid is from District 4, and is as clumsily sweet as he is in videos. Ash is from District 3, and the majority of the time Jack spends around him consists of half an hour of conversation about the mechanics of the games they both main, and bullying Pezzy, who’s from District 10. They’re inseparable, the teasing clearly only playful, and established over  _ years _ of friendship. Tuxy’s from District 11, although he politely denies Jack’s request to hear his voice (he’s less kind about it with his friends, but the grin on his face cancels out any possible venom of his rebuttals.) Buffalo and Retrixx are from the United Kingdom, born and raised, and Wozenz, who’s, surprisingly, from District 1, has a field day reenacting how they explained the District system to the foreigners of their friend group. Chromez is from District 6, and is a grounding force, for him at least, when the ceaseless noise of the convention gets to be too much.

Grizzy returns with a few more faces, but before Jack can even learn their names, he’s pulled aside, “ I almost forgot the whole reason I fuckin’ invited you,” He turns back to the group, now at least a dozen creators sprawled across one side of the convention wall, leaning against flimsy bags handed to them upon arrival, accompanying the badges that dangle around each of their necks, and each other. He grimaces, “ … man, we’re all fuckin’ children so I can’t leave any of you in charge.”

“ I take offense to that!” Wozenz yells over, before he’s wrestled back into whatever conversation he was having with the others.

“ Fuck you!” Grizzy calls back, before turning to Tuxy, gaze watchful over Ash, who’s attempting to pry Pezzy off him, effort seemingly futile,“ Can you make sure everyone gets back to the spot intact?”

Tuxy flashes them a smile and says, “ I’ll try, brother,” before turning his attention back to Droid, ignoring the conflict going on next to him. 

“ I hate my friends,” He mutters, before tugging at Jack’s arm, letting go of him a moment later once Jack has begun to follow him properly in favor of beginning to make his way through the larger crowd, “ c’mon, let’s go. I think Puffer already headed over, which, fuckin’ rude, I have a terrible roommate, did you know this?”

The journey can’t be any longer than twenty minutes, with Jack almost losing Grizzy quite a few times (it’s only his second convention, and so many people in his space, intentional or not, is overwhelming) and descending to one of the lower floors of the building, Grizzy picks up the pace upon seeing a clearing, where a line is forming, and, sure enough, Puffer is greeting quite a few people. Jack follows behind Grizzy, the former waving enthusiastically at one of the men, who’s drinking from a water bottle that has the twitch logo on it.

“ Tyler!”

(It feels the last of something, a feeling he hasn’t been able to rid himself of since Piers showed up at his doorstep months prior, being chipped away. It feels like the last piece of a puzzle he’s been trying to solve for the entirety of his life clicking into place, and the crushing of his ribs at the same time.)

“ Jack?” Grizzy’s voice brings him back to reality. He blinks the revelation out of his eyes, for now, and tries to meet Grizzy’s worried gaze with reassurance he cannot give, “ y’ good there, bud?”

“ Yeah, sorry,” He walks the last few paces, and takes his place next to Grizzy, facing the man he just called Tyler. It’s not his Tyler, by a long shot, but there’s something about his smile that helps warmth seep back into his bones all the same, “ can you repeat everything you just said?”

“ I can’t believe you’ve done this to me,” His complaint doesn’t hold any true weight, and soon enough, he’s gesturing between them, “ Jack, Tyler. And squad, I suppose,” He waves in Puffer’s direction, who’s lounging beside two or three unfamiliar faces,“ Tyler, this is Jack.”

“ It’s nice to meet you, man,” Not-Tyler offers a hand, which Jack takes, although he feels numb again, like he’s watching someone else perform his own, semi-conscious actions, “ you a fan?”

“ Unfortunately not,” There’s something about Tyler that’s familiar, and so he doesn’t bother with manners, simply asking the question that’s been weighing on him for a minute now, “ I’m sorry, but who’re you?”

“ Ah,” He looks to Grizzy,“ Grizzy, dude, you gotta remember to tell people who I am before just bring in’ ‘em to meet me.”

“ Fuck me, for doing a good friend thing.”

“ You know I love you,” He responds, and tucks his hands away, into the pockets of his hoodie, before his demeanor changes, becomes less relaxed,“ iAmWildcat. Wildcat for short.”

“ Oh.”

( _ That’s _ why he looks familiar. He’s the beast, coming up on a decade of being the first of the third floor.)

“ I’m sorry if that was disappointing or something.”

“ No, it’s not,” Jack’s consolation comes out more rushed than he intended as if he’s running out of time (he may as well be) “ I’m honestly more embarrassed I didn’t recognize you. I also didn’t expect to be meeting a victor today.”

Tyler’s smile is less forced after that, and he elbows Grizzy, who makes a noise of protest, “ Being roommates with Marcel’s former editors has its perks.”

“  _ Puffer _ ?” Grizzy makes a point not to meet his accusatory gaze, “ I’m gonna throttle him later. I thought we were  _ friends _ .”

“ Hey, we didn’t want you milking us for the clout.”

“ Speaking of,” Tyler interrupts, reaching for him, but upon Jack visibly flinching back, he stops himself, and instead gestures in Puffer’s direction, “ how’d you like a personal introduction to Floor 3, Jack?”

Tyler proceeds, with the helpful commentary of Puffer, who’s lounging in one of the chairs that’s probably meant for the victors (although, none of them seem to mind as Tyler calls them over for an introduction, or they pass by) and Grizzy, who drifts between him and Wildcat.

Marcel is the only one he vaguely recognizes, most notably from Grizzy & Puffer’s discord videos. He’s from District 3, and when he learns that Jack is from District 2, he visibly brightens (“Dude, we’re practically neighbors!”) From the way he talks about the Capitol alone, Jack could’ve guessed he was from one of the five (In his peripheral, a product of the training Jack himself was never particularly skilled in, but obligated by pride, he catches the way Nogla’s fingers quickly, but firmly, curl around Tyler’s bicep. It’s a reminder of what the Capital has done to divide them, and he wants so badly to tell Wildcat about Tyler, of the childhood he gave up for the sake of a brother that was never his by blood.)

Four0Seven, or Scotty, is the first of Wildcat’s friends that Jack is introduced to that he genuinely doesn’t know. He laughs this off, and there’s something about it that’s infectious (that’s something about the Districts closer to the outskirts, who have seemingly never known what it’s like to view the Capitol as lifeblood, that Jack has always admired. They do not fake anything; their grief is louder than the constant roar of the dam that powers the very government they despise, and their happiness is never fake, for it is a fleeting thing, and one to be taken advantage of) When he arrives, Tyler seems to relax a bit, although he evades any attempts Marcel makes to inch closer.

David, more commonly referred to as a shortened version of his online presence, Nogla, is the one who scares Jack, in a weird way. His entire brand, from his observation, is a play on cartoonish stupidity, but Jack has a lifetime of learning to shape his image into one palatable for the Capital. He makes the reasonable assumption that Nogla is far smarter than his brand allows, and he’d like to think he understands why. He doesn’t know how to convey that understanding, but he thinks, in time, he may figure it out. 

(He doesn’t know if Tyler does it purposefully, but he introduces Jack to his friend Anthony, or, lovingly referred to as his brand, Panda, and Vanoss, both of which are on Jack’s level, millions of fans but not having nearly as much traction as 

the victors they’re friends with. Jack remembers why he comes away from Twitchcon missing it for a whole week, especially when they get to talking about having friendships with the victors. He mention Tyler by name, but it’s nice to have people who understand)

“ Thank you,” He tells all of them, but especially Tyler, when he is too tired to remain at the convention for the day.

(There’s a question that hangs in the air as Wildcat examines him.  _ Thank you, for giving me my life back, _ goes unspoken. Tyler barley knows this man, but he thinks he sees himself in of Jack, a creature that resembles the one he is made to be, that’s been caged for too long, that maybe, just maybe, is finally being allowed freedom.)

“ It’s no problem,” He says, humble, genuine, and he does not understand how much it means to Jack to have tasted faith again.

* * *

There is nothing special about the day itself, nor the stream, other than the obvious; that he’s playing  _ minecraft _ with a  _ victor _ . Wildcat, Marcel, and Scotty’s first appearances on his channel had resulted in what he fondly describes as a public meltdown from his fanbase (one that, on his end, was overwhelmingly supportive at its core. He was,  _ is _ , so thankful for his fanbase, as small as the active part of it is) It’s still jarring every time any of them reach out to ask if he’s like to be part of a lobby, despite how they are slowly becoming reoccurring faces in his videos, and a larger part of his life than he could have ever thought possible.

As he gets himself camera ready, he occasional spares a glance at the monitor. His numbers are climbing as the minutes after the notification goes out stretch on, greetings addressed to individuals who are identifiable in the fan space, those from the fortnite age, to the newer members, who contribute just as much fan work, and commentary on familiar bits, a few emotes contributed as well.

_ mexghost11 _ : Morning Allison

_ Allison _ : hiiiii mex!

_ DywayneUwU3 _ : dududududu speed run

He grins, and turns his attention to his microphone, checking that optifine is recording, despite the stream not properly starting yet, and that discord is hidden from the screen he is projecting to the viewers, courtesy of the steady evolution of technology. He doesn’t necessarily have any messages he’s embarrassed of that he’s sent to his friends, but the last message Wildcat sent him contains the IP for the minecraft server, and even Jack has enough awareness to know there are some people in his community that would take advantage of a slip-up, a chance to boast they played with CouRageJD.

Pushing aside what anxiety, however feeble the grip, Jack positions the chat in the right of his screen, the commentary mundane and redundant for the most part.

_ 19.Nick.03: _ LateJd

_ Demolisher’s 47: _ He can’t be late if he’s always late

“ Absolutely not,” he mutters, pushing the mic aside momentarily, so he can send a message in the chat. He will not have slander on his good name.

_ CouRage _ : SOON

_ CouRage _ : \

Mere  _ seconds _ after he sends the message, the chat erupts into a flurry of  _ HI JACK! _ and  _ COURAGE.  _ There’s a select two or three fans who refer to him as dad and uncle, which would be off putting if he hadn’t been doing this for years. He watches the chat, for a moment, before turning his attention back to adjusting his mic, and making sure that he’s composed on the webcam.

He taps his mic,” test, test,” “ hey, Chat. How’re we feeling about this one?

_ Ryder Wyne _ : MINECRAFT

They’re about an hour in, with the chat a mixture of tips that Wildcat reassures him are actual strategies to the game and betting on the likelihood of him killing Tyler, or dying himself within them entering the Nether. He turns off his webcam for a short period to fix the lag even  _ he’s _ experiencing at this point. When he looks up from his work, chat is talking amongst themselves, and he just watches, for a moment. Jack really does love his community. There’s one comment in particular that catches his eye, because it addresses him directly.

_ Hehe:  _ hey jack, i think there’s a typo in your wiki?

“ What do you mean?” He sets the bottle down, out of the webcam’s line of sight, before turning his attention back to chat. He knows that his chat being set on sub-only mode can discourage people, but it’s helpful with fan interaction (he’s watched the victors whose main game is minecraft a handful of times, but the speed at which their chats move genuinely scares him)

_ Hehe:  _ someone put Tyler Blevins as one of your associates?

Jack is thankful he turned his facecam off, because he can only imagine the sensation of the compromise he made with himself shattering with an innocent question is reflected on his face as well.

“ That’s weird,” In situations like these, he is glad to be from District 2, where he can easily physically compose himself, not giving the public eye the impression he is even remotely upset for a minute,“ I’ll let the mods know that needs to be removed. I don’t know anyone by that name,” He switches his facecam back on when he doesn’t feel like he’s going to throw up anymore,“ good news, though. I think the stream should be okay for a bit.”

(He plays with Wildcat for another hour, and Ryder, whoever he is, donates  _ three hundred dollars _ single handedly. It diverts chat’s attention away from him so that he can blame his nerves on not playing the game for over a decade.

In a room the color of ash, a Peacekeeper loops the clip, as per the request of the President, and Tyler finds he can’t even bring himself to cry)

* * *

Here is how the Districts honor Floor 0, despite the Capital’s best attempts:

Felix is taught doublespeak after he’s able to string together a full sentence. District 1 never says his name, too close to the Capital to risk outright rebellion, but the laughs of their children are too carefree for Felix’s legacy to ever truly fade. Felix was prideful, never backing down from a challenge, no matter how ridiculously time-consuming. His memory does not have to be altered as severely the rest of his friends, because he was first. Felix was first, and does his damn best to make sure none of his predecessors, no matter how stubborn, have to endure loneliness as he did. 

District 12 is District 1’s twin sister, it’s language of closed palms just as guarded as doublespeak. Dan remembers the taste of pollution in his lungs, the coal scraps he took eagerly, sketching on what little paper his family could spare. It’s one of the few possessions he takes back to the Capital. Dan does not say goodbye to District 12, his family, in the way the Capital expects. He drops the bag, the baggiest clothes he could find that hadn’t been given to friends, or siblings, and gets a few hits against his chest before a Peacekeeper restrains him. He does not explain, nor does he need to. 

District 8 mourns for Jenna as soon as she is wiped away. She was,  _ is _ , creatively, stained glass windows, what it means to be an artist. She brought joy to everyone she interacted with, and her brand was being herself, despite certain restrictions the Capital still informed her of. Jenna is  _ always _ depicted as ethereal, angelic in her process, despite how unprofessional she is painted to be in the eyes of history. She is remembered not only by her fiancé, but in the tower. Lily is not allowed to utter her name, as per her fellow mentees, but she threads clothes, measurements scribbled first on a post-it, and transferred to new, easily disposable paper, when the lead begins to fade. She creates hope in Jenna’s memory.

District 6 respects Ryan, because for all the Capital plays him up to be, he knows the value of information. He is a social person, but he does not pry when his question is denied, and is honest, especially with his floormates, when he enters a room and overhears a conversation meant for two. Ryan clings to Max when they come for him, for all of his friends, and Max apologizes for letting him get caught in how the Peacekeepers have to forcibly remove them from each other.

Tiffany is the pride of Floor 0. She is soft-spoken, a stark contrast to her only menteé in her later years, and she is rarely in trouble, more content with her family-friendly brand than Dan. Her stream’s technical issues were legendary, viewers frequently taking to social media to beg the Capital’s official pages to fix her lighting. District 5 receives her S.O.S far too late.

Anthony takes on Ian’s name, and becomes the eighth Victor of Floor 0. He is passionate, and cares so deeply about the Districts and it’s residents that it causes him literal, physical pain, to the extent that Tiffany learns to make tea, imported from across the globe, where even the governments who have not succumbed to tyranny are complicate. District 11 carries on his legacy, making sure the lullabies that soothe children before they come to know fear, echo in the hollow streets. 

Ian understands technology. It’s predictable in a way humanity is not, patterns and equations that are solvable, if one knows how. He’s a fixer, instructed to fix Tiffany’s lighting a handful of times, (the Capital begins to send technicians after a while, and he thinks it’s because they think he’s tampering with the mechanisms to make them deliberately continue to fail. In all honesty, it’s Tiffany. It’s always been her, and her mentees have smarter and smarter tributes that proceed them, who they coddle in a desperate attempt to hide their genius) the broken handles when Tyler initially arrives, the fridge when all of their food thaws for an entire day, and the hunger feels like home again. District 3 reads between the lines, finds the apologies in the HTML of a channel that’s supposed to be long gone.

and District 2 remembers Ninja- no,  _ Tyler. _

District 2 sees Tyler in the amazonite of District 1 (and maybe, just maybe, in the Capitol’s new pet.) District 2 remembers Ninja in the tributes of District 6. District 2 remembers Tyler in District 8 when there’s a new, purposefully worn bracelet on Toast’s wrist. District 2 remembers Ninja when Scarra hums the sound of mallets against stone. District 2 remembers Tyler in the irregular flicker of Marcel’s lamp every fifth of June, without fail.

_ Tyler _ is survived, by his friends, his district, and his mentees

* * *

Wildcat is in District 2. The first thing he says to Jack as he opens the door, in true Wildcat fashion, is “ Good Solstices, you're old.”

“ You’re hilarious,” He opens the door wider, an invitation that Wildcat does not take,“ How’d you get here?”

“ That’s besides the point,” Jack highly doubts that, especially with the lack of escorts, “c’mon,” For a second Wildcat reaches for his hand before stopping himself, and simply gesturing towards the path that leads to the back of the house, “ I want to show you something.”

“ Cat,” He leans against the frame of the door, tucking his fingers into the space between his eyebrow and the upper part of his chest, “ you can’t just show up to Distruct 2, unannounced, and expect me to drop everything for whatever stupid prank you have planned.”

“ Jack,” He whines, leaning against the railing that’s installed on the right side of the steps, “ c’mon, man. It’s important,” Wildcat’s playful front slips into one that, at least to him, looks real, and Jack has never been one to refuse his friends, even if the plan is at his own expense. He hasn’t seen Wildcat this genuinely excited in a while. “ I promise,” Wildcat tries, but Jack is already sold.

“ I hate you people, sometimes,” Despite his protests, Jack allows Wildcat to guide him out of the house, towards the back, where a garden used to be, “ those Capitol fucks definitely rubbed off on you. All cryptic and shit, like, just give me a straight answer-“

Tyler is sitting on the bench, talking to Nogla, of all people (although, later, he figures this is because Wildcat and Nogla are inseparable, even despite there being no need to uphold their brands) He’d always been older, but now he looks it, from the dull color of a more polluted sea that remains, perhaps on purpose, to the new wrinkles that are visible when he notices Jack, and smiles.

(He missed Tyler’s smile)

Jack doesn’t care how cliché he is going to be written as when Tyler is inevitably interviewed about his experience, ancient history the new Panem is desperate to document before it’s too late. He pulls Tyler into a embrace that makes even his own muscles ache.

“ Ow,” Hearing Tyler’s voice again feels like midnight, running across the rooftops of houses they never dreamed, as children, they would own. It feels exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, and Jack doesn’t let go, “  _ ow- _ “

“ Fuck you,” Jack squeezes tighter, because he is not young enough anymore to do anything else,“ fuck you, in so many ways.”

“ I mean, if you’re offering-“

“ I hate you,” Jack gives into the protests of his body, although his hands do not leave Tyler, nails digging a bit too hard into his forearm and then, moving to his face, “ you’re-“ His fingers are cupping Tyler’s jaw, and they probably look strange to anyone passing by, but Jack doesn’t care, because he can feel the shift of the bones in Tyler’s jaw as he swallows, and he’s real, he’s here, and he’s  _ alive _ , “  _ How _ , I thought you were-?”

Tyler laughs, and he finds Jack’s wrists, holding them gently, “ What can I say,” There are no callouses on the pads of his thumbs anymore, but one cannot just forget District two, especially when they are born into pride and chipped stone “ I learned from the best.”

(It’s only when Wildcat approaches again, Nogla close by his side, although, bless him, keeping his questions to a minimum, does it register just how much the Capital hated Floor 0. Two victors of Floor 3 stand before him, only two decades younger than Tyler, yet who bear little to no signs of the weathering nature of time) 

“ Solstices,” Jack finds Tyler again, “ They really did try and forget about you, didn’t they?”

Tyler’s the one who embraces him this time, far gentler than he expects, like he’s  _ fragile _ “ I missed you.”

And that’s what almost makes Jack cry again. How relieved, but scared this old man is, this person who is not quite Ninja, but not quite Tyler anymore.

“ I know,” He has so much he wants to say,“ I missed you too, Ty.”

They stay like that for a while, and even when they separate, he feels Tyler’s hand on his back, hesitant, and never lingering for more than a few seconds. Nogla does most of the talking, although he makes a point not to ask Tyler many questions about the tower. Jack notices Wildcat moving back towards the front of the house at a certain point, disappearing a few moments later, and he’s laughing with someone else. They’re laughing, in District 2.

From the archway, they all hear a clatter, and look up just in time to hear Dennis, who probably wakes whatever poor District 2 citizens who were enjoying a day off by screaming,“ Is that  _ NINJA FUCKING FORTNITE _ ?”

Dennis nearly knocks Tyler over with how he collides with him, Nogla steadying the latter with a steadier hand and an expression that is quickly turning to one of worry, but then Tyler laughs, pulling his younger brother closer, holding Dennis for as long as he will allow. 

(This is not an ending. But Tyler is finally back where he belongs, and that is enough, for now.)

**Author's Note:**

> The line “ They really did try and forget about you, didn’t they?” is actually taken directly from the discord. The little discussion about F0 that was had had some bangers in it that I’m going to try to slip in occasionally, with credit, of course.
> 
> Massive, massive thank you to the F0 groupchat, who helped me pin down Tyler’s characterization, Elle and Bensie for always encouraging me, despite the more I stray from the SMP creators I picked writing back up for. This fic does follow a lot of the aigo canon, as it was written before the removal of the 60th victor, but with less limitations, I may have some changes in the other F0 fics. That’s right, there’s more to come because I have no self-control. I will be hibernating for like, a week though, so I make no promises on when I am publishing another work.


End file.
